


Angus Bloch

by Watergirl1968



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Dentistry, First Love, Jearmin - Freeform, M/M, Phobia, but also fluff, mouth pain, post chapter 90 in manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watergirl1968/pseuds/Watergirl1968
Summary: Armin Arlert understands the difference between fear, and crippling anxiety. It is the latter that pays him a visit when a tooth infection turns nasty, and a legendary and terrifying healer comes to New Trost by the Ocean.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrybubblegum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybubblegum/gifts).



> This little fic is a gift to my pal cherrybubblegum...to thank them for advice and support during my oral surgery, and to wish them well as a new path unfolds before them...Cheers!
> 
> Also note: this fic is canonverse and takes place at the end of Chapter 90 of the manga. SPOILER ALERT if you aren't that far!

_He stands not less than seven feet_

_His eyes are bloodshot red;_

_His mouth is full of yellow fangs_

_Dark hair upon his head;_

_He creeps into your room at night_

_And bothers not to knock;_

_A greater fear you'll never know_

_Than the fear of Angus Bloch._

 

"Connie!"

"Huh?" Connie Springer looked up from where he sat, cross-legged on the grass with eight or nine children circled around him.

Sasha jerked her head at him impatiently.

Connie rose, several pairs of wide eyes following him.

"You've got to stop teaching them that," Sasha chided, once they were out of earshot.

Connie snickered.

"I'm serious," Sasha crossed her arms across her chest. "Don't make them even _more_ afraid of him."

Connie laughed out loud. "Sash, that's one of the tamer songs about Angus Bloch. There's the other one, about him squishing a liar's tongue..."

"Connie!"

"What?" he objected. "The little boys love that one".

"Angus Bloch," Sasha informed him, "is not who you think he is."

"That right?" Connie snagged a strand of wild grass, chewing on the stem thoughtfully. "How would you know, in any case? Have you ever laid eyes on Angus Bloch?"

Sasha walked ahead of Connie, along the path which rose gently above the beachhead. On the beach, the children chased one another and shrieked.

"Maybe I have," she said carefully.

"You have not!" Connie retorted. He jogged to keep up with her. "You have not," he repeated.

"How d'you think folk in Dauper got their teeth looked after? Dauper is countryside. No permanent dentist. No surgeon. Just the midwife and the country doctor, such as he was."

"You've seen Angus Bloch?"

Sasha backtracked, standing in front of Connie. Brown eyes serious, she opened her mouth wide, finger pointing to a pink space in her upper row of teeth, at the back.

"You see a tooth there?" she demanded around her finger.

"No," Connie was fascinated.

"That," Sasha shut her mouth with a snap, "is because Angus Bloch pulled it out of my head."

Connie's own mouth fell open. "You," he said hotly, "never told me. We tell each other _everything_."

"Don't sulk," Sasha admonished. "We don't tell each other absolutely everything...for instance, we don't discuss anything that might betray a confidence."

She turned then, striding up the path with purpose, the firm set of her shoulders indicating that the conversation was over.

Connie blinked after her. He rubbed his jaw absently, wondering what it would be like, allowing a dark-haired giant to wrench a tooth out of his mouth.

__________

Jean Kirschstein wondered in what lifetime, in what line of work, he and Armin would no longer be unloading supply wagons. He'd posed the question to Armin, moments earlier.

"A banker," Armin had offered. "Bankers don't unload wagons."

The small, wiry Corpsman hoisted a sack of turnips over one shoulder, swinging it smoothly down to Jean.

"Who unloads all their money then?" Jean wanted to know. "Somewhere, in the capital city, there's a wagon loaded with bars of gold and sacks of money, waiting for some fat-ass banker to unload it."

"A musical instrument maker, then," Armin suggested. "An instrument maker would not have to unload any wagons." He bent, slinging a large wheel of cheese over the wagon's sideboard. "How many of these can you take at one go? Three?"

Jean snorted. "Five. What d'you think I am?"

Armin cocked his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I don't imagine you'd be much of a flute maker. So you'd best reconcile yourself to a future of loading and unloading wagons."

Armin bent down then, his head close to Jean's. "Swim later?" he asked.

Jean looked around. "Just us?" he said quietly.

Armin nodded. He leaned forward, bumping his rounded forehead against Jean's.

__________

The quartermaster had given Armin a small sack with two plums and two apples in it, for his trouble.

Armin had walked back out of the storehouse, smiling to himself. Jean had taken the wagon and gone to settle the horses.

Armin plucked his wide-brimmed hat off of his back, where it hung by a string that was secured around his neck.

He settled it onto his head, sauntering toward the beach.

At the western end of the beach, cliffs rose chalky-white, like giants' teeth. At low tide, the cliffs were passable by means of a narrow tunnel in the rock. The tunnel twisted around, opening into a small cove; a sand beach with ancient, weeping willows.

It was here that Armin and Jean met, whenever they could, to swim.

Armin looked up at the sky, from under the brim of his broad hat. He figured the two of them had a couple of hours, perhaps, before the tide came in and the tunnel became impassible.

He slipped between the cliffs, picking his way carefully across the stones, enjoying the rush and suck of the water around his ankles, and the roar of it through the chalky cliff walls.

He emerged out the other side, scanning the shoreline to see if Jean was already in the water.

He yelped, as he was grabbed from behind. "Hey!"

The arms tightened around him.

"What kept you?"

"Quartermaster," Armin replied. "I've got two apples and two plums."

Jean released him then, and Armin sped toward the water, his large hat bouncing crazily on his head.

At the shoreline, Armin wriggled out of his shirt, pants and undergarments, placing the sack of fruit carefully into his overturned hat.

He splashed into the surf, laughing.

__________

Armin and Jean floated lazily, hanging onto the limbs of a half-submerged tree. The late afternoon sun caught the cliffs in a white blaze, firing the long grasses which grew in tufts on the beach.

Armin placed his forearm alongside Jean's. "You're dark as a nut," he remarked.

"After a while," Jean replied. "my skin stopped burning."

"Mine didn't," Armin said ruefully. "Not entirely."

Armin drifted around to the other side of the submerged tree trunk, so that he was facing Jean.

Jean watched him carefully. Armin's left cheek was fuller than his right, and pinkish. His eyes were dark through the strands of blond hair that dipped into the water, pupils dilated.

"Armin," he began carefully, "I thought you told me that your tooth felt better."

The dark eyes regarded Jean quietly. "I can't feel it," Armin answered. "At least, not at the moment."

"What did you take?" Jean's hand closed gently around Armin's wrist.

"Halcyon drops," Armin told him. "I can't feel a thing. Maybe it's getting better," he opined hopefully.

"Let me look."

Armin's lips compressed together.

"Armin..."

"I can take alot of pain," Armin raised an eyebrow. "I've felt worse."

"Let me see."

Armin opened his mouth tentatively.

"Turn toward the sun."

Armin wriggled around, kicking his feet. Jean peered into his mouth.

"Oh..."

"Wha?" Armin asked.

"You had a poultice in here," Jean remarked. "I can smell it. It smells like cloves."

"Tosh made it for me." Armin said.

"Is that where you got the halcyon drops?" Jean frowned. "Open again..."

Armin did.

"Armin, something's really wrong," Jean said quietly, "the gum's dark red and puffy. And the tooth is sort of grey."

Armin closed his mouth, sinking under the water, like a sea undine.

Jean felt a brush, as Armin swam between his legs. Small fingers, teasing and tickling.

"Stop," he said quietly. He didn't want to play. Beneath the warm sun on Paradis Beach, he felt cold, and sick.

The pale head popped up out of the water. "Oh," Armin looked dismayed. "Are you going to be grumpy for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Armin," Jean said levelly, "you've made it sixteen years, taking care of your own teeth. And you've done a good job. But..."

"No." Armin scowled. "No. Absolutely not."

"Armin, you need to let the dentist sort it out."

Armin glared at Jean, feeling betrayed. "You know....you know that's the one thing I can't manage," he whispered. "Captain Levi is terrified of small spaces. Mikasa hates snakes. And I can't...I just can't let some monster scrape out the inside of my mouth." he shuddered.

He looked at Jean. "Jean, have you ever seen Angus Bloch?"

"No," said Jean dismissively. "But honestly, Armin...you aren't making any sense. You've survived combat...survived horrors I can't even get my head around...how can you possibly be frightened of one human man?"

"No titan ever tried to stick a knife into my mouth and cut my teeth out," Armin's voice was thin, and brittle.

The two of them had wandered out of the water. Jean picked up his towel, wrapping Armin in it. He pulled Armin close, standing silently on the beach until the tension seeped out of the small form.

Jean laid his cheek on top of the wet, salty head. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay."

__________

At the order of Survey Corps Commander Hanje Zoe, a small detachment of riders rode north, to meet the dentist as his entourage made it's way toward the newly-established military base of New Trost on the Ocean.

Sasha Blaus, fully armed, headed the column.

Connie Springer rode beside her. Despite the warmth of the summer day, he shivered. There was the dentist's black and purple wagon, lettered neatly on it's side: _A. Bloch. Dentistry._

The wagon driver was a quiet, pasty man. His companion, beside him on the bench, was equally taciturn.

Angus Bloch walked behind the wagon, a bulky figure in a purple travelling cloak, his jet black hair hanging in long shanks to his waist. He leaned upon a stout staff, his hands thick as frypans, hairy-knuckled and spotted.

And indeed, he was not a hair under seven feet tall.

Connie Springer shifted in the saddle, fighting the urge to piss himself. It wasn't so much the appearance of the dentist which unnerved him; rather it was the persistent clacking of the bleached-white skulls which hung from the wagon, swaying and bumping against it with every rut in the road.

Sasha cantered up beside the brutish figure, eyes keen and bow at the ready.

"Doctor Bloch," she nodded her head, "We'll see you safely to New Trost,"

The figure looked up then, bloodshot eyes fixing on the young archer.

"Sasha Blaus," he rumbled, "of Dauper. I have one of your teeth, missy." he rattled a bag at his side. "Who's this?"

"Connie Springer," Connie found his voice, mouth dry and thick as old porridge. "and my teeth are just fine, thanks."

__________

By the time Jean and Armin had made their way back through the cliff tunnel and meandered up the beach to the Survey Corps compound, Jean had made his mind up that he was going to speak to Eren.

Under normal circumstances, Jean had no interest in Eren's opinion on the subject of Armin Arlert. To discuss Armin with either Eren, or Mikasa, felt like permission-seeking. And Jean needed no one's approval to occupy a place at Armin's side.

To Jean, Armin was neither brother nor kin; there were no childhood deficits to be accounted for. No preconceived notions about inequality, or weakness.

To him, Armin was a young man; stubborn, bright, devious and frank. Jean didn't need anyone's blessing to love this person; in fact, it baffled him that no one had beaten him to it.

"I'm going to the barracks," he nodded over his shoulder at Armin.

"Ok," Armin didn't ply him further; rather, he took himself off in the direction of the longhouse at the east end of the compound.

__________

Scientific study, the Commander had opined, was not a sideline to Survey Corps mission objectives. Rather, research informed and directed the heart of the Corps' activities. With no one to rein them in or ground them, Hanje Zoe had been on a year-long building spree, creating a meandering laboratory beneath the officers' quarters at New Trost.

Captain Levi had taken himself off to the lighthouse at the east end of the compound, mumbling something about "Four-Eyes blowing us all to kingdom-fucking-come." It was actually speculated that the noxious smells issuing from the lab had driven the fastidious Captain out, rather than the fear of imminent incineration.

Armin crept down into the laboratory, easing the door open. Tosh was alone at her workstation, injecting blue fluid into a clear tube and watching it crawl toward a glass container.

She looked up. "Hey Armin."

Armin nodded, walking around the apparatus set up on the table.

Tosh made some notes in a ledger; small, neat hands scribing small, neat characters. She bent her dark head to the task.

Tosh had been in the Survey Corps for as long as Armin had. She'd been an aide to Moblit Berner, and now directed experiments in the laboratory. She also knew an awful lot about teeth. More than anyone else that Armin knew.

"So?" she asked evenly, without looking up.

"Tosh," Armin stepped closer, "I'm sorry to bother you...to ask this...but, is there something more that can be done? About my tooth?"

Tosh looked up at Armin, her fine forehead creased in a frown. She removed her gloves, rinsing her hands in a vat and drying them carefully. She slid on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Sit here," she gestured to a high stool. "Open up."

Armin did so, eyeing the lab technician warily. "I won't put anything in your mouth," she said patiently. "I swear. Just my finger."

Armin made a small sound.

Tosh sucked air in between her teeth. "Armin, this isn't good. This is, in fact...quite bad. I don't think that the poultice worked. It's festering."

"F-Festering?"

"Festering." Tosh removed her finger, looking at her friend seriously. "Armin...."

His eyes were wide with alarm. "There has to be another option," he glanced around in desperation. "Can't you give me a shot or something?"

"Well," Tosh replied, "You're in luck, as it happens. Did you know that the dentist has come to New Trost?"

"Angus Bloch," Armin swallowed.

"Yes," Tosh sounded excited. "The very same."

Her smile faded as she regarded Armin's stricken expression.

"Armin," she laid a hand on his arm, "I know just how debilitating a phobia can be. But I promise you, Doctor Bloch won't hurt you."

__________

Armin squeezed two bitter halcyon drops into his mouth, under his tongue. The dose would be sufficient to numb his mouth until after parade. Then, as the soldiers set about their business, he would make his way down to the lab, help himself to a pair of pliers and yank the rotten tooth out himself.

The thought made him tremble, and turned his limbs to jelly. He felt dizzy; his belly was already emptied of it's breakfast as he had been sick behind the barracks.

He'd been avoiding Jean all morning, which hadn't been too difficult. Jean was sulking, and sneaking looks at Armin intermittently.

The bell sounded for parade. Armin adjusted his harness straps, straightened his shoulders and tried to look fierce, despite the angry rosy cheek.

The Survey Corps had taken on a new life; it's mission expanded, given the revelations of the past year. The Corps was divided into four units, of twenty-four soldiers each.

The elite soldiers of the Corps were under Hanje's direct command. Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Connie and Sasha formed the front rank.

Hanje walked the line, their remaining eye bright and furtive. Hanje stopped in front of Sasha Blaus.

"Sasha!"

"Commander?" Sasha shifted something in her mouth, and swallowed.

"What are you eating?"

"Sir....uh...eating a roast turnip, Commander."

Snickers.

Sasha smiled weakly. "Would you like some?"

Hanje shook their head, pacing the line, peering at the elite. "Springer! Are you enjoying some turnip in my muster yard as well?"

"No, Commander!" Connie declared.

"Show me!"

Connie opened his mouth wide, side-eyeing Sasha.

Hanje walked on, their boots crunching in the gravel. " What about you, Armin?"

"Hai!" Armin stood, as tall and rigid as he could manage. Hanje approached, facing the young soldier.

"Open."

Armin blanched. He swallowed, parting his lips slightly.

Hanje reached up, finger and thumb pincering his jaw. "Open!"

She peered into Armin's mouth. "Hmmm."

She released Armin, walking to the end of the row. The claxon sounded, to end muster, and the soldiers broke into groups to commence their assignments.

Hanje strode back along the line. "Armin. Jean. Sasha. With me, please."

Sasha rolled her eyes.

The solders followed Hanje into the officers' quarters, and down a flight of stairs to the rooms beneath. The group passed the laboratory, the armory, and the holding cells.

Armin realized, a moment too late, that they'd stopped in front of an open cell door, with two of his comrades in front of him, and two behind.

Hanje addressed him. "Armin. It is your responsibility to disclose any injury or illness you have, which may impair your ability to discharge your duties. You've failed to do that."

Armin glared at Jean, his eyes narrowing. "You can spare Jean your nasty looks," Hanje said flatly. "You've smelled of halcyon for nearly two weeks. Medicine you....borrowed...from my laboratory. Now, you have a choice. You can wait here, and be treated safely and properly...or you can turn in your wings to me."

Armin faced his commanding officer.

"Armin," they said quietly, "You're a breath away from having an infection enter your blood, or your belly, from that festered tooth. You seem to regard your own well-being lightly. Do not make us regret our choice at Wall Maria."

That cut.

Armin saluted his Commander, turned and walked wordlessly into the cell.

__________

The dentist's tent loomed, like a giant, evil junebug, over the town of New Trost. The black tent was piped with purple. Outside of it, the dentist's assistants, wearing black and purple aprons, welcomed those suffering from all manner of oral maladies.

"Children first," Angus Bloch had instructed. Connie Springer had three of the little urchins clinging to him. They looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Who is first?" One of the assistants approached Connie.

"Me," said a small girl, without preamble. She opened her mouth wide.

"Not yet," the assistant smiled. He looked at Connie. "Are you their father?"

"No," Connie shook his head. "Orphans. I help to mind them."

"I see. And how are your teeth?"

"Perfect!" Connie shut his mouth with a snap. "No complaints here."

__________

"Armin," Sasha sat outside of the cell.

He sat on the bunk, listlessly.

"Armin, listen. Doctor Bloch used to come to Dauper. I've seen him more than once. He took one of my teeth out."

Armin looked at her.

"Yup," Sasha was encouraged by the look. "It's true. Pullled a bad tooth right out of my head, he did. And I swear on my life, on my oath, it didn't hurt me."

"You don't understand," Armin said quietly. "I'm not afraid of pain, Sash. Some people have...well, they have a _certain_ fear. Only, not a fear. A terror, really. A fear that hasn't always got a cause, and can't always be explained."

"So...you've got a terror of Doctor Bloch?"

"Yes. Well, more specifically, what he does. Cutting folk in the mouth...taking bits of them...the idea of someone cutting the inside of my mouth sends me into a panic."

"But Armin, you'll be fine. I promise! After all, look at Eren! Look at everything that he..."

"Yes. I know." Armin said flatly, eyes gazing blankly at the cinderblock wall, "I'm so ashamed. I tried to avoid all of this...I though I could heal it, if Tosh helped me. And now, here we are."

Sasha sighed, her brown eyes softening. "I have to go. Tosh will come, and bring you an ice pack. That halcyon won't last forever.

She stood, and reluctantly turned away.

Armin lowered his head, silent tears spilling down his cheeks.

__________

The little grid of steel bars at the window cast a square of striped sunlight onto the wall of the cell. The square meandered across the wall, and onto the floor where it sat, umber orange, as Armin Arlert waited to die.

It was unlikely that his life would be a long one. This, he already knew. Unless the same science which had condemned both he and Eren to an early end, could produce a serum to reverse the effects of titan-shifting ability, he had perhaps thirteen years.

He'd resolved to spend them learning, serving as a soldier, exploring, and writing.

To die today, bleeding out through the mouth, was something he had not foreseen. He pressed a hand to his cheek.

Tosh had come, her brown eyes serious and matter-of-fact as she'd reassured him. "There is," she'd concluded, "every reason to expect you'll be back at the beach in a few days' time."

She'd given him a small vial of halcyon, and a muslin bag of ice.

Armin hadn't taken the halcyon drops. He turned the tiny vial in his hands, watching the cobalt liquid.

The tightness in his jaw slowly became a grinding ache. The pain welled, like a small creature trying to savage his mouth from the inside.

"Oh," he said softly, the word causing pain to fire along his jaw, and into his ear. "Shoot."

The pattern of sunlight tilted and swam as tears sprang into his eyes.

"Armin,"

He turned away from the voice, ashamed.

"Armin," he heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and the creak of the cell door.

The straw mattress dipped, as Jean sat on it, beside him. "Are you here alone?"

No response.

"Where is Eren? What about Mikasa?"

"I sent them away," the small voice was thick, distorted. "Neither of them can afford another reprimand. Commander Hanje is going to follow through with the decision to treat me, and if it happens that I protest...well...Eren or Mikasa might pull a weapon again, or similar. I'd imagine a soldier only gets one chance to make that mistake."

"Huh," Jean nodded.

"Well done," Armin said flatly, still not looking at Jean. "Having Sasha eat something at morning muster. Causing the Commander to do a spontaneous survey of soldiers' mouths, of all things."

"That wasn't my idea," Jean said easily, watching the sun pattern on the far wall. "That was Sasha. Sasha is a hunter. If she knows anything at all, it's how to lay traps."

"I asked you not to tell anyone."

"I didn't have to. You're more transparent than you think. You smell like rotten apricot and halcyon. You're sweating, feverish and your cheek is pink."

Armin turned, facing Jean. "Oh."

"But yeah, I did tell Eren. The night we joined the Survey Corps, we swore to devote our lives to humanity. Our deaths were a foregone conclusion. You have saved my life, on numerous occasions...and there will be more sacrifices we're asked to make...But honestly, Armin. We weren't about to let you die of a tooth infection.

"I tried to fix it," he whispered.

"Yeah," Jean nodded. "I know." He let his head fall back against the cinderblock, rolling his neck to look at Armin. "Why haven't you taken the painkiller?"

Armin turned the vial in his fingers. "I wanted to know how bad it was."

"And?"

"It's bad. Mouth pain is strange. It can fell a large beast."

Jean grinned. "And a small one."

Armin silently handed the vial to Jean. He turned his pained face upward. "I'll take it now."

Jean uncorked the vial. "Come closer."

Armin wriggled forward.

"Open your mouth."

"That's as far as it opens," Armin told him. He'd managed a few inches.

"Tilt your head back."

The infectious smell, like rotten fruit, was sharp. Jean felt a jab of pity. Carefully, he dribbled the halcyon into Armin's mouth.

Armin made a small noise. His hand closed around Jean's wrist, and then his shoulders slumped, his body easing.

Jean reached out and pulled Armin into his arms, holding him close, the blond head falling onto his chest.

"It's okay," Armin said blearily, "It's okay."

"Dr. Bloch can't be all bad," Jean ventured. "He took out Sasha's tooth."

"I know."

"And, he has a great big dog. A hunting hound. It's grey, and shaggy."

"Having a dog," Armin murmured, "doesn't make one a trustworthy person."

"He calls it Queenie."

"Well, maybe, then."

"Queenie's a big dog. I saw the little children hanging off of her and playing."

"None of the children are afraid of him," Armin cuddled closer. "Only the adults."

"Jean?" Armin tilted his head to look up, "I'm so cold..."

Jean's mouth tightened grimly. "You know," he began, finding himself at a loss. He took a breath, the pale head rising and falling atop his chest. "You know that I will never leave you."

"Of course," Armin whispered. "Nor will I ever leave you." Then, a touch crabbily, "I thought we'd already been over this."

Jean laughed softly. "Okay. So you know that...should we ever become separated, like Ymir from the Queen...that I would write you letters, just as Ymir did...the same _sort_ of letters. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand that you can't spell, and that you love me."

Jean reached his arm out, hooked it under Armin's knees and pulled him onto his lap carefully.

"I can't spell, and I love you." he confirmed.

Armin reached a hand up, curling it around Jean's neck protectively. "Good."

__________

Angus Bloch had gone out onto the ocean, in a small boat. He'd wanted to catch some fish. He'd chummed the water with bloodied bait and waited. He and Queenie, his wolf hound, had sat in their small boat, rod bobbing in the water and waited.

Angus had been to the ocean many times. For several reasons, not least of which was his size and appearance, Angus had been able to roam Paradis freely for many years. He was no stranger to the ocean. He'd fished, distilling beneficial oils from the fish. He'd ground their bones into pastes and tinctures.

That day, he'd seen the great beast. It had appeared to him, deep beneath the water, thick-bodied and steel grey. It had surged upward, it's massive head targeting the bloody chum. It's jaws has opened, a yawning maw of fangs into which one might easily throw a barrel.

It had sucked back the chum, rolling and eyeing the dentist with one baleful, opaque eye before descending back into the depths.

In the ensuing silence, Angus had looked wordlessly at Queenie. The hound stood, shaking, a yellow puddle sloshing in the bottom of the boat.

"Don't worry," Angus Bloch told his dog, "I just pissed myself as well."

He began to row slowly toward shore, knowing that calm movement increased his chances of arriving there safely.

"See, Queenie?" he told the dog, "there are more things to see in this world than a man can ever dream up. And it will be a young, fair-haired man that writes about them. This, I know."

__________

Poverty, Doctor Bloch observed, always showed up in the teeth. Orphaned children, poor diet, contaminated water. Undernourished, nomadic soldiers placed into the field without adequate care. The long queue outside of his tent on the third morning in New Trost, said as much.

Many of the complainants simply needed cleaning and a poultice. He had six assistants with him; one or two more wouldn't hurt.

He emerged from his tent, to curious silence. His bloodshot eyes panned the crowd. Ah, there she was. The dark-haired science officer. "You," he crooked his finger at her.

She approached him. She had a quiet, sensible face, and intelligent dark eyes.

"Who're you?"

"Tosh," she replied.

"You know your way around the mouth?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I do my best."

"Come in then," he held open the tent flap. "give us a hand."

Tosh smiled.

__________

Armin was fairly sure that his bladder, bowels and stomach had been thoroughly emptied. Despite his paralyzing fear, there was simply nothing left to leak out of him, except for tears. Even these would not come.

He walked, wide-eyed and grim, between Jean and Eren, to Doctor Bloch's tent.

Outside of the tent, as advertised, was a large grey dog, chasing a small, red-headed girl in circles.

Two of the aproned attendants waited for him.

Eren tensed. "No," Armin hissed. "No confrontation. You promised. Stay here, with Sasha."

Eren relinquished his grip on Armin.

Armin looked up. No words, no anecdotes, and no friendly dogs could dispel the belief that this was an execution, and he was about to die. Two things consoled him. The first was the fact that he knew he'd done a good job for humanity. He'd pushed his mind and body as far as he could. He'd been of service.

The second was that someone loved him. Not in the manner of his grandfather, nor in the way Eren and Mikasa did. Jean loved him; a love that implied all of the intimacy and loyalty that might be shared in future, as adults.

Jean held his hand, tightly. "I'm coming in," he said.

The tent flap opened. There stood Armin's friend, Tosh.

"I'm helping," she informed him. "It really will be okay, Armin. Let's finish what we started."

"I'm coming in," Jean repeated.

A movement inside of the tent, and then Dr. Bloch emerged, stooping and then raising himself to his full height of seven feet. His dark robe pooled around him, skimming the dirt of the muster yard. He pulled back his hood, black hair spilling out, tangling in his beard. His red-rimmed eyes burned into Jean's.

Armin wobbled, and fainted. Dr. Bloch caught him neatly, scooping him up and disappearing into the tent.

The two attendants resumed their positions in front of the flap.

"Wait," Jean croaked.

__________

Armin woke to dim, scented warmth. Cloves, fish oil, vinegar. Medicines. It was dark inside of the tent, calming and quiet.

He was in a large chair, his arms and legs, and forehead strapped to it. There were four more similar chairs in the tent, each containing an individual, each with a bright lantern suspended overhead. It was a brighter light than Armin had ever seen cast by a lantern.

On one side of him sat Tosh, and on the other, Doctor Bloch.

"Crystals," Doctor Block rumbled conversationally. "they power the lanterns, making them so bright. The crystals are mined in a far off land, over the sea. You will see it one day, I'm sure. And write about it, no doubt."

Armin shook. He felt a stab between his legs, but there was nothing in his bladder to void. His throat closed.

"The restraints," said the doctor gently, "are twofold. They are to keep your back, neck and airway in the correct position. But first, they are there so that...hesitant individuals will at least hear me out, before bolting about and destroying my surgery. Fair enough?"

Blue eyes, wide and dilated regarded him.

Dr. Bloch's face was a whorl of scars and blood vessels. His dark eyes, red-rimmed. He had a huge, hooked nose and black brows. His own teeth were strong, yellowish and fanged.

"I," he told Armin, "am going to take your pain away..."

He was interrupted by a squawk at the back of the tent. Queenie, who had joined her master inside of the tent, bounded over to investigate.

At the bottom of the tent, Jean Kirschstein had somehow managed to worm his head underneath the bottom edge of the tent.

"Please," he cried, "Please, I need to come in!"

Queenie lapped playfully at Jean's face, soaking it with her tongue. "Ugh, stop it! Please! I need to be with Armin! He's my...my _person_ , and I need to be with him!"

Jean's face disappeared, and then reappeared. "Please?"

Angus Bloch gave a brief nod, shaking his head in exasperation. Moments later, Armin saw Jean enter the tent, wiping his face distastefully on his sleeve.

"Sit," Doctor Bloch instructed him. "If I hear a peep out of you, I'll add you to my wagon's adornments, is that clear?"

Jean reached out, his hand and then his backside contacting the small wooden stool that was offered.

"Now," Doctor Bloch turned back to Armin, "I am going to take away the pain. I will give you an injection, which will make you very sleepy. You will dream. When you open your eyes again, it will be all over. I will leave you with medicine, and you will take it, and soon you will be all better, just like Sasha. Do you understand what I'm offering?"

Armin's lips were compressed into a thin, impenetrable line.

"Armin," Jean breathed wordlessly.

"I have seen the entire procedure," Tosh encouraged.

"I can only do this," Doctor Bloch ventured, "if you allow me to do it. I took an oath that forbids me from doing it against your will."

Armin shut his eyes. Either his life was over, or it wasn't, he reasoned. If it was, the last thing he wanted to see before he died, was Jean's face. He opened his eyes, and looked at Jean. Discovering that this was more than enough, he nodded in resignation. "Okay," he croaked.

Jean sat on the edge of his stool, fists clenching and unclenching.

Doctor Bloch reached out a hand, passing it softly over Armin's face, shutting his eyes. Tosh had a large syringe, which she pushed into Armin's arm, covering it with a cotton pad. Armin sagged, like a broken doll.

Jean bit his lip, knowing that Armin's mouth would now be opened, and a metal implement shoved into it.

Instead, Angus Bloch reached out both of his huge, clawed hands, and took Armin's face between them. He inhaled, a deep, unending breath, and slowly released it. He repeated this, a soft grunt issuing from the broad chest. This time, he exhaled a yellowish steam which swirled around the crystal lantern. A third breath, and more yellow steam.

"So much pain," he muttered to himself, "Such a short life, and so much pain...."

Perspiration beaded Doctor Bloch's craggy hairline. He exhaled again, a clear blue emanating from his nostrils.

Jean watched, rigid as petrified wood.

Doctor Bloch's dark eyes eased open. He looked at Jean Kirschstein. "I was," he began, "quite something to look at, as a young man. Tall and dark. A bit of a catch, if I can be immodest." he stroked a long finger over Armin's forehead. The small face was peaceful.

"Pain," he continued, "pain is a useful, yet ugly thing. When I take another's pain, there is a physical manifestation. My own flesh pays a bit of a price, each time, you see. I am not a monster; rather pain has crafted this face, and these hands..."

Jean blinked, wordless.

"Armin has carried pain, very bravely. And while there will be more to come, for the time being, he will have a bit of peace. Now Tosh, please."

Jean watched as Tosh fitted a small brace inside of Armin's mouth, propping it open. Doctor Bloch reached in with a swab, cleaning the site. And then, with a sinister-looking set of pliers and a smooth movement, he pried the infected tooth out of Armin's mouth.

Doctor Bloch applied a clean gauze to stem the blood. Jean squeezed his eyes shut.

"Now," Doctor Bloch addressed Tosh, "we shall pack this with a clove paste. All will be well."

Jean put his head between his knees. Queenie lapped at his face.

__________

Armin surfaced slowly. He'd been dreaming; a languid dream in which he was on the ocean, rising and falling, seeing sky, then spray, then waves, bobbing up and down, eyes fixed on the prow of a wooden ship, carved into the head of a dragon.

The rising and falling stilled and he surfaced into a dark, cozy space, tasting of cloves.

"Urr," he said. His cheek was packed with wadded gauze.

He opened his eyes, blinking into the gloom.

"Zahn," he grunted.

Jean sat at his side, bending over him, holding both of his hands.

"It's done," Jean smiled.

"Ha," Armin said, in satisfaction. Relief flooded him, along with a warm, impossibly-light bliss. It must be the medicine, he reasoned.

He'd been hurting for so long, he'd become unable to recognize serenity.

__________

Armin stood in the middle of the dusty road, leading north, up the coast. It was three days after his tooth extraction. At Doctor Bloch's instruction, he'd swished his mouth faithfully with salt water, and packed it with clove paste.

It hurt a little, but was healing well.

He stood with Tosh. She reached down, grabbing the edges of the new black-and-purple tunic that she wore.

"It's a bit odd-looking, isn't it?" she grinned.

"Not really," Armin replied. He took her hand, shyly. "I'm pleased for you. I'm glad that you're going with Doctor Bloch. You'll make a fine dentist. But...I'll miss you, Tosh. I...I don't have many friends, and you are one of them."

"Yes," she nodded. "Doctor Bloch says I've got a gift. A healer's mark. Whatever that means. Guess I'm going to find out."

"Write to me," Armin urged, "Address the letters to the Garrison at Shiganshina. I'll pick them up there, and you can do the same."

"Agreed," she smiled.

__________

Something was different, for Armin. The ocean's colours were deeper, and more varied. Yams tasted sweeter. Connie's jokes were funnier. He couldn't put his finger on it, but even his limbs were lighter.

He bounded into the waves on a sunny evening, two weeks after his surgery.

"Throw me!" he cried.

Jean stood in the water in front of him, fingers interlaced to cup Armin's heel. When a large wave came, Jean launched Armin into the crest of the wave, hearing a delighted squawk as he did so. The waves tumbled Armin, leaving him gasping and exhilarated. Jean fished him out of the shallows.

They swam and played until the sun began to set, firing the sea.

A large wave rolled in, and Jean threw Armin into it. The pale head bobbed up, some twenty feet closer to the shoreline.

Jean swam over, grabbing Armin and pulling him close, as Armin gasped for breath.

Armin waited for Jean to release him, but Jean did not. He held Armin close.

Armin closed his eyes, face turned away from Jean.

"That," Jean remarked, "that's just about the nicest thing I've ever seen, I think."

They watched the sun set, embracing. The waves jostled them, nudging their bodies together. Their hips bumped, spongy-bits colliding.

Still, Jean did not let go. Armin shivered deliciously. It was difficult to sort out his feelings. He loved doing everyday things with Jean; unloading the unending wagons, cleaning gear, building walls. He enjoyed raising his head from a book, to discover Jean's eyes upon him. And lately, he'd come to associate the aches and twinges of adolescent need, with Jean. He'd probably never confess such a thing, let alone assume it was reciprocal. He'd keep his secret for a little while longer, enjoying every moment of skin contact, every intimate bump.

"We should get back," Jean said into his ear, "tide's rising, and it'd be bad if we were stuck on this beach all night."

"Yeah," Armin smiled, laying his cheek against Jean's shoulder, "that wouldn't be good." 


End file.
